Frost Sequel
by GrandFinaleigh
Summary: Takes place immediately after the events of Frost and Starlight. Not a one-shot but not expected to be particularily long either. In progress. Nesta has been sent to the training camp in the mountains but doesn't acclimate as expected. Cassian struggles with his feelings fro the war, and the current batch of recruits seem to hate them both.
1. Chapter 1

1

Cassian rapped twice on the heavy metal door, "Male entering," He called out.

The conversations around him choked off into whispers. Most of the girls were staring at him, several had the nerve to glare.

"Where's Archeron?"

None answered. A ripple of murmurs tore through the room

"Fine. Her bunk. Where is her bunk?"

Still nothing. Cassian's composure went up like a room full of matches.

He flipped the nearest bunk, and began to sweep everything resting on top of the nearest trunk into the floor.

"General!" A woman too calm to be the owner of the bunk interjected.

"She was set to scrub and salt floors today. On the mainstreet in town. If she's not in camp then she probably got herself stuck out there."

Cassian paled. "Clean this place up. Everyone's on half rations until it's been inspected for proper order."

Multiple soldiers began to fume as Cassian left. He ignored them all. If anyone stood up to protest, he didn't notice.

What few buildings existed in town sat perched on a connected platform of wooden boards. In this weather, he could think of no one who would bother making such a trip.

Cleaning and salting the boards. Truly a fool's errand if there ever was one.

His anger continued to boil over though his walking did much to require his full attention. The snow had built to such a point that his usual long strides were clipped to a strenuous knee-to-chest pattern so slow that he spread his wings and took off instead, landing with a heavy clunk in front of the general store.

The walkway had been swept clear, the boards carefully salted.

Cassian tried the nearest door and the next, but found them both to be locked. He made his way to the diner and pounded hard of the glass door. Mrs. Miran looked irritated as she stomped to the door in a massive pink nightdress, her murky brown hair unraveled to one side of her face.

"What is it now, Cassian?"

"Nesta," he got out, just having realized that he was breathless. "Where is she?"

"I sent her home when this mess started, though I see she stayed to finish her task…"

Cassian didn't stay to thank her, nor to berate her for having set Nesta such a task in the first place, though he wanted to.

He let his feet carry him back to the snow to walk back the way he had flew in. His mind was a jumbled mess as he picked his way through heavy snowdrifts.

Not even halfway back to camp he caught sight of a torn blue cape half-buried on the roadside.

Nesta was still attached to it, wearing only a simple workdress underneath, her only protection from the intense cold. Her only protection until now. Until Cassian. Until he gathered her up into his arms and held her close even as they reentered camp.

The door to his cabin didn't open easily. It took a combination of kicking down the snow and jerking the handle back until he finally got it open.

He tipped Nesta into a chair by the fire and began unlacing her boots and unbuckling her belt. Her heavy skirts fell, soaked through with water.

When he finished, she was left in a white cotton slip that hung to her calves. It was a wonder that it had stayed dry and he swore under his breath that she hadn't been allowed to keep any of the military garb once it had been determined that she was untrainable.

How long had she been braving the weather in just that ratty old cape? If she caught her death of cold, he would have no one to blame but himself.

He brushed melted ice back from her face and out of her matted hair. Nesta whimpered through her exhaustion.

Relieved at this sign if life, Cassian gathered her up again and lay her gently in his bed, covering her with his quilt.

He placed two more logs into the fire, and draped her clothes over the nearby rack to dry.

After a while, he removed his boots too, and tucked his wings in tightly, before he slid into bed next to Nesta. Careful. Always so careful not to touch her.


	2. Chapter 2

2

The first thing Nesta realized when she woke,some hours later, was that she was warm. Deliciously warm.

The dark smelled of cinnamon, hazelnut coffee, and fresh tobacco. She stretched, feeling herself weighed down by a heavy expanse of leather.

She pushed hard at it with her palms, feeling the membranous black curtain stretch back to meet her.

A deep groan issued low from Cassian's throat, and sickened, Nesta fought her way out of the cocoon of his arms, forcing him to roll onto his back in his sleep. As he did he slung his arm up and let his wing go limp, both slapping Nesta in the face with a dull thwack and causing her to come up from the bed with much more zeal.

She practically flew across the floor and wrenched the door open. Even in the early hours of the morning, with only a sliver of moonlight to light the way, she could see the giant wall of snow barricading her in to the cabin. She could feel the cool rush of wind on her face when more snow slid off of the roof to meet the broad expanse in front of her.

Cassian yawned.

"You might as well rest," he said groggily. "I'll take the chair."

Nesta slammed the door of the cabin. Another avalanche could be heard making its way off the roof.

"Why, may I ask, weren't you in the chair to begin with?" Nesta demanded. "We didn't…..?"

"Of course not," Cassian frowned. "Do you think if we had that that little number would have survived? Give me some credit, Ness."

"I will not. And don't call me that," she tightened her arms around herself self-consciously.

"There's a robe, you know. Hanging on the inside of the wardrobe door," he offered.

"I don't need your clothes!"

She reached for her own. They were thawed now but still dripping.

"Please continue," Cassian begged. "I'd like to see where this goes."

Scowling, Nesta flung open the wardrobe and tugged the thick black robe off of its hook. As she threaded her arms through the sleeves, Cassian stood and made his way over to a cast iron stove in the corner.

"What do you want for breakfast?" He asked.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Cassian heaped cups of flour into a bowl. Nesta watched him in equal parts surprise and hunger and he stacked pancakes and plump sausages onto the plate.

Most days she was lucky if the other recruits would let her eat. The barracks certainly didn't have a stove, and many days came and went with her tray sliding to the end of the mess hall empty and untouched. Though she noted, they still charged Rhysand's account for that day's sticky oatmeal or nameless meat stew.

She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so soundly either. They had taken apart her mattress the first day. When she made it back to the barracks after hours of drudge work and far later than the other recruits, she twisted noisily on the metal springs until morning.

It seemed that enough of them knew who she was before Feyre had ever sent her, not from her reputation in Velaris, but from the family's of dead soldiers who had been told, among other things, that she had screamed at the top of her lungs to save the bastard born Illyrian while their loved ones were blasted out of the sky before they even knew what hit them.

Cassian looked at her from under his row of eerily thick lashes, as if he were reading all of this,

"I'm not sure how you like them-"

"I'll take it all." She reached greedily for the plate.

He tried to look away, to give her some privacy while she stuffed the food into her mouth without a stitch of ladylike grace.

"Hey, do you want to see something neat?"

Nesta frowned as Cassian pulled the tin pitcher of syrup up from the table and opened the window near the stove. She watched him pour a stream and then push some snow around. He set the pitcher down and in a moment he dug into the snow outside and pulled out two hardened curly-ques of thick brown syrup.

"It's like candy." He grinned, handing her one of the two twists. Her stomach ached. It was in the shape of a heart.

"My mother used to make them when it snowed. She would write our names or draw animals….I'm afraid that's the best I can do."

Nesta wasn't sure what to say. _How nice…_ She thought.

Cassian straightened. _Just nice?_ He thought back.

"Well, for a brute like you, I'm surprised you could make anything even remotely pretty." And then it hit her. The small unspoken words that had passed between them.

"That's probably the real reason they hate you, you know," Cassian said.

"I don't know what you mean-"

"Shall I give it a tug then?" Of course he meant the bond.

"No," Nesta didn't need to be reminded of the fear and rage that had overtook Elain when Lucien had tried. Had dared.

"But you know that it's there? Is this your refusal?" Cassian demanded.

"It's a mistake, Cassian. You know I'm not the one for you. I'm not strong enough, I never was."

"That's horse shit."

"Is it? When we were destitute my youngest sister risked her life every day to keep us afloat. I nearly broke her, isn't that what you like to tell me? I trained with you and Azriel, and when it came right down to it, when I could put a single thing right, my sister, soft-hearted gentle Elain took up the blade I couldn't weild and killed the king."

Cassian sat stone faced.

"The cauldron chose itself. The only reason we share a bond is because I stole from it. All of that is gone now, so whatever you saw from it, LET IT GO."

Cassian felt a pang in his heart. He had seen the way she had floundered coming to camp. She was untrainable. Everyone had said so. He had admitted it to himself. Had even asked Rhys if she could return home. Only to be reminded that she had been sent away to keep out of trouble, not to make a military career for herself.

She had shut down. She had opened solstice presents with dead eyes, taken and squandered money from Feyre, and try as he might he couldn't rid his thoughts of those males. All of those males that had had taken advantage of his mate. A tremor rippled through him as he fought down the urge to upend the table.

Nesta watched with interest, breaking the sugar heart in half and nibbling on the end.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Cassian had been left stunned, when after breakfast, Nesta stood, palm outstretched and began to dry the dishes once he finished washing them. Together they made quick work of it.

Cassian had offered to walk her back to the barracks afterwards, but they opened the door to find a new wave of snow falling.

He left Nesta bundled up against the fire, dressing himself and stepping out into the mountainous tundra. He had told her he was gathering more wood for the fire, which was true enough. Mostly he needed to clear his head.

Rhys had been sending him inconspicuous messages. Barely waiting long enough for Cassian to scrawl a reply before he summoned the paper and pen back in that impatient way of his.

Stepping into one of the more heavily wooded patches of the camp he was able to witness Rhys winnowing in with a faint woosh.

"This isn't summer camp, Cassian." His feet had barely touched ground when he set in.

"It isn't?"

"You're not helping her by coddling her. She won't learn a thing if you don't let her fend for herself. She's not going to try when she knows damn good and well she's got you as a safety net."

"She-She's struggling. The way they treat her…" Cassian stumbled over his words.

"What fond memories do you have of this place, Cassian? No one has an easy time of it. That's the point." Rhys said.

"It's deeper than all of that," Cassian rose his voice to the Lord of the Nightcourt. "She needs help. Real help. Perhaps a healer...or some sort of tonic for her nerves…"

"And how much is that going to cost me-" Rhys almost didn't get to finish barking that demand when Cassian took a swing at him, knocking him in the jaw with his fist hard enough that his teeth sang.

And then Cassian was on his ass. Half buried in a snow drift. Rhys had unspooled a single vein of power. A sweeping thunderclap of adamant that had hit Cassian so forcefully in the gut that he lay panting for a moment.

"Don't...don't talk about her like that." The general pleaded. "She's mine...you know that...I can't."

"What you will do, Cassian, is that you will put her back where I had her. You will do it swiftly and without excuses, or you will be stationed in Velaris." Rhy said threateningly.

"She needs me." Cassian retorted. "We're so close. She's acknowledged our bond. My mate...that's all she needs. As soon as everything snaps into place she'll be ready to go back. To start over."

"She's playing you for a sap!" Rhys bellowed. Cassian looked livid, but he remained silent.

"She will say whatever she has to to get out of this place."

"No."

"And she'll go right back to her old ways. Just as you found her. Another drunk lush sprawled in the dens by the river. Interesting, isn't it? That you're so certain that it's you she needs. You've been there this whole time, Cassian. You're the only one she hasn't invited to her bed."

If Rhys wasn't clamping down on Cassian with his own power...Wasn't holding him there and silencing him, Cassian would have flown into his face.

As it was, he shook with rage as Rhys bent to crouch in front of him.

"I'm not saying this to be cruel. She isn't ready. If you don't believe me, ask her yourself."

And then he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

5

When Cassian stumbled back into the cabin, Nesta rose warily, taking in the fresh blood his face, and his snow filled clothes.

"What on earth happened to you?"

"Don't worry about it," Cassian grumbled. He unloaded the haul of wood in his arms to the stack beside the fireplace.

"What's important is that we get you back to your barracks, and get you back on track."

"Rhysand was here," Nesta ground out the words between her teeth. It wasn't really a question. "He's the one that has hurt you. You didn't feel this way before he said something. Before he - "

"Before he made me see sense, Nesta," Cassian said. "It may look harsh to you, but I wouldn't have listened otherwise. He's right. I'm trying to protect you from him. From the camp, from yourself, from the whole damn world if I could."

"They left me to die once, they'll do it again." Nesta crossed her arms and stared hard into the floor. She supposed it was nice while it lasted.

"If you would just apologize….to him and your sister, they would bring you straight home."

"To my apartment?"

"To you- No, Ness, to the manor house. You may have done penance for going on a drunken spree but you don't need to be alone. I'll be home sooner than you think and we can go from there."

"Because that short leash I'm on only extends to your reach, doesn't it? This is unbelievable. I didn't do anything wrong. If they don't want to pay for anything, all they have to do is cinch their purse up. Leave me out of the whole thing! I would have stayed in my father's house had they bothered to rebuild it, instead renovating that SECOND MANSION of theirs."

"Nesta."

"There's no reason for me to be in this god forsaken place. I'm not soldier, and I never intended to be. There's no reason for me to be here at all."

"You can't think of even just one?" Cassian asked.

Nesta locked eyes with him, hard so that there would be no mistaking her meaning, or her ferocity.

"I hate that cauldron and everything it did to me and my family. If you think that I would honor an arranged marriage cooked up by some infernal pot, then you're far stupider than even I would have guessed."

Cassian winced, but he said nothing. He gathered every article of Nesta's clothing while continued on in her tirade, and no sooner had the cloak been clasped around her throat did he lead her back out into the frozen camp, and down to the female's barracks.

The very last thing she said to him, before she shut the door behind her was this: I could never love you. Even if it means enduring this. Enduring this forever. I. Could. Never. Love. You.


	6. Chapter 6

6

All things come to an end, and before too long, even the fresh snowfall in the Illyrian mountains gave way and the training camp resumed its normal schedules and regimes.

Cassian had done his part to ignore Nesta. If she were in one place, he would volunteer hours of his own time to ensure he were as far from her as possible.

He had thought his luck with this system was too good to be true, and of course it was.

No sooner had he shut the door to his cabin one morning when he saw Nesta trudging along up the hill struggling with a heavy bucket of water.

She hadn't seen him, he hoped, and so he made to carry on as if he hadn't seen her either.

A chill spring wind ripped through the camp, unsettling leftover snowflakes. It breezed past Cassian and he steeled himself as his lungs filled with Nesta's scent. Sensible lye soap, conservative drops of a human perfume from long ago, and…

No.

He rushed back after her.

"Where is this going?" He asked Nesta as he took the bucket from her.

"I thought you couldn't help me," Nesta wheezed.

"There's been a change of plans." Cassian replied, as his nostrils gently flared.

"The mess hall-" She began.

"Fine." Cassian snapped his fingers and the bucket disappeared, to the mess hall she hoped, as he gripped her hand and tugged her mercifully back down the hill.

"Do you have any belongings here you care about?" He asked.

"More or less than all of the items that got left back at my apartment?"

He forced back the retort on his tongue. "Then we're winnowing, I'll get the rest later."

"Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

He looked at her sharply, as if he hadn't answered that question to himself yet. "No."

And then they were gone.

Nesta smirked silently to herself as she sat on a long bench outside of Feyre's office in the new manor house. She felt rather pleased with herself to say the least. Who knew that fumbling a single pail of water would cause Cassian to try his luck against her sister. She could visualize Cassian's pleading eyes. She would be back in Velaris permanently before the sun went down.

At last the door opened and Cassian and Feyre stepped into the hall, with Rhys towering behind them looking like the ghost of solstices past.

"Well?" Nesta asked.

"We've sent for a healer," Feyre told her. "If she agrees with Cassian, that you're in no condition to continue your work camp duties in the mountains…"

"Then we'll have quite a bit to discuss," Rhys said roughly, before kissing Feyre's temple and excusing himself.

When the healer arrived, Nesta tried to present her case. First commenting on the severe snowfall, the jobs she had been forced to do, but it all appeared to fall on deaf ears. The healer said much of nothing as she peered into Nesta's eyes and throat and checked her breathing.

Finally she mixed several powders into a vial of water and dipped a piece of paper into it. She shook the paper lightly and requested that Nesta press it between her lips.

"What does this have to do with anything?" Nesta asked. She vaguely recalled Feyre doing the same thing for weeks on end. She never had any interest in what it was for.

"The quicker you cooperate, Ness, the better off we'll all be," Cassian began. "Although I'm not above forcing you to get on with it, lest you get any ideas." He added.

Nesta took the paper and pressed it between her lips, the tang of something slightly acidic melted on her tongue from what she assumed had been in the vial. The healer held a hand up, indicating that she would remove it when it was time. She began a silent count.

She remembered Feyre humming while she did the same, and the paper coming out unchanged, if a little wet from her saliva. She really didn't understand how they could possibly have time for this.

"Alright." The healer mused, as she plucked the strip from Nesta's lips. Feyre gasped.

The end had turned a violent purple.

"What does that mean?" Nesta demanded.

"She is." The healer said.

"Is?" Nesta asked again. "Healthy enough to go back to the mountains?" She guessed.

Feyre had brought her hands up to cup her face. Just behind her, Cassian stood wide-eyed with his mouth slightly agape. He was staring at Nesta with shock and perhaps a trace of sadness.

The healer turned back to face Nesta, pressing the strip into her hands. "With child." She corrected. "Congratulations."

"But - " Nesta began. This was some sort of mistake. Elain had said it was normal to miss your cycle for months as Faye. The males from the bar had not been concerned with any precautions. The males. The males from the bars. "I haven't...I haven't selected a mate."

"That hardly makes any difference," The healer said, in equal parts firmness and empathy. "You HAVE been with a male. Have you not?"

It was Nesta's turn to grow quiet. Feyre had been with two high lords, before and after being mated. She was actively trying for a family, if the nursery were any indication. Why hadn't anyone said anything?

"I can't be pregnant. I've only just become...I don't have a husband. I didn't accept the mating bond. I can't be pregnant." Nesta was crying now, her hands clenched into fists, the strip of paper falling to the floor.

The healer looked to Feyre and Cassian for help. "I suppose the truth can come as a bit of a shock…"

Cassian was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Would you….Could you check on the baby? She's been given exhaustive work the past few weeks. If we've hurt her…"

The healer turned back to Nesta, pressing her stomach gently.

Cassian and Feyre exchanged a look.

Feyre took a seat next to her sister, "Do you know...who might be responsible?"

Nesta screwed up her face, tears streaming much more freely now. "No. That's what you want to hear, isn't it? So go ahead. Go tell your mate."


	7. Chapter 7

7

Nesta lay curled on her side in her new bedroom at the manor house. She had been right about one thing, she had been back in Velaris by nightfall. Her face was wet and sore from crying hard evening and she didn't hear or acknowledge when a soft knock wrapped on the outside of the door.

Elain had been to see her already, to chirp a meek congratulations, and to offer her food. Nesta had remained unmoving and silent. Even as her sister gushed about the new baby and lifted a brush to comb through Nesta's pillow matted hair. She had eventually given up with promises t visit later.

This time it was Cassian. "I told you, I'd bring you your things," He began as he placed a lumpy bag on the chest of drawers by the door.

"I had half-expected you to have come around by now, though I see I was mistaken," He said.

"If you're here to rub this in as the creciendo to your great learning experience, then you can see yourself to the door," Nesta said flatly.

Cassian stroked a weary hand over his stubbled chin. "You say that as if I'd take some delight in ridiculing this sort of situation."

"Wouldn't you?"

"I don't see the the humour in it." Cassian said solemnly.

Nesta knew the words that had hung between them. How many times had she mocked him for being ill-bred? _Why should I sully myself with a bastard-born nobody?_ The irony wasn't lost on the cauldron, it seemed.

"Don't you want it?" Cassian asked.

Nesta considered this.

"Not like this." She wiped her eyes and readjusted on the pillow where her vision had become blurry. "I know they'll talk about me. The way I talked about Feyre. The way I talked about you. Fitting, I suppose."

"You couldn't have known," Cassian sighed, and moved to the bed. Nesta shut her eyes so she wouldn't have to see him, but she let loose a breath when she felt the bed sink next to her knees.

"I don't care," He said suddenly, and Nesta was so caught off guard by this that her head snapped up immediately. He turned to look at her tear stained face.

"You were hurting, and you messed up, but you can't think that it changes things. Not one damn thing, Nesta. I won't turn away from you. Not now. Net ever. There isn't anything you can say at this point-"

"I want to know who the father is," She said.

Cassian stilled and took a deep breath. It was so like Nesta to cut him off in the midst of a grand confession that he nearly laughed.

"And if this male decides not to take responsibility, what then? You'll accept our bond to save yourself from disgrace?"

Nesta's voice broke in exasperation. "What is it you're offering, if not that?"

And perhaps she could not see it, the hopeless devotion in his eyes, so he said, "Love, Nesta. Every drop I possess, for you, and now this." He laid a gentle hand aside her stomach and bent down to press a kiss against her temple.

Nesta's face screwed up in frustration, and she turned away from it, a new batch of tears sliding down her face.

"I'll help you find him," Cassian said, before he stood and walked out.


	8. Chapter 8

8

The next few weeks were tumultuous. Cassian had begged Rhys to stay in Velaris for the time being, and the high lord had relented, on the grounds that whatever was happening with the female recruits in the mountains would be left to the generals who hadn't abandoned their posts. It pained Cassian, and he reluctantly agreed.

Nesta was having no luck with the males from the pub either. She hadn't been able to piece together a complete list, and those who had returned to the bar had either refused to submit to her test altogether or had been negative submissions.

She had endured much, and Cassian had too as he sat in a corner booth, watching her shred the last of her dignity for the quest, and holding himself together as some primal piece of him begged to wrench certain males apart and scatter the remains.

Tonight, Nesta was trying to find the whereabouts of a man whose name she couldn't remember.

"He won't be back, he's been recently mated," Another patron put in helpfully after she finished describing him to the barkeep.

Nesta put her head into her hands as she stalked back to Cassian's table. "This is hopeless," She sighed.

"Not necessarily," Cassian encouraged, "Anytime you're ready to accept this as a sign…"

"Hush up, now." Nesta demanded as she flipped open the pages of her newly acquired planner. The calendar in question was covered in her scribbles, the only information she had managed to glean from her patchy memories. There was a large question mark painted over a date that had to be as close to being the date of conception as the Healer could guess. Nesta couldn't remember anything specifically related to this day, though she had to admit that most things were beginning to run together at this point.

Cassian considered her. "You could hang up flyers. Have you had relations with this woman? Please contact-"

Nesta cut him off with a hard stare. "Name everyone you've ever bedded. Go on then, I'll wait."

"Well there's Mor, " Cassian began, and he was delighted to see that this sparked a very apparent jealousy in Nesta.

"I was sure it was armory's apprentice." Nesta shook her head, already navigating back to her own problems.

"That asshole," Cassian shook his head. "Young too. He has to be the only male in Velaris younger than you are and still somehow considered an adult. You dodged a bullet with that one, and had you not stopped me, he would have been dodging them on his way out of here."

 _You're not going to pin this on me!_ He had shouted. He had refused to take the test, and when he had left, Cassian had plunked the strip into his drink, revealing a deep black color that told them he wasn't who they had been looking for anyway. Nesta shook away the embarrassing memory.

"Perhaps a sailor? Now that Rhys has lifted the ban on others coming in and out of the city, I suppose he could be anywhere. Could be anyone…"

"That's what I'm saying. We'll get Feyre to make you some flyers…" Before Cassian could finish that thought, Azriel slunk in, so quiet that neither Cassian nor Nesta heard him enter or approach. They saw his shadows appear before he saw him.

Though Nesta knew the news he was carrying was heavy, he appeared as if a great deal of stress had left him.

Cassian narrowed his eyes at him. "You look pleased. What news have you brought? It's the milkman isn't it?"

Nesta rolled her eyes and Azriel averted his own, his cheeks reddening, clearly scandalized at Cassian's chosen way to handle the situation with humor.

"It isn't the milkman, don't be absurd." He demanded. "And anyway it's not like the news would be appropriate coming from anyone but Nesta."

"You want to talk inappropriate? I'm looking for the father of my child with my brother-in-law's employees. Taking gossip from shadows for goodness sake." Nesta said.

"It isn't gossip, what they know." Azriel said quietly.

"Well let's have it." Cassian said as he sat back, and crossed his arms.

Azriel tried his best to remain professional, but the sensitive information at hand made this all but impossible.

"Four males visited the apartment the weekend in question. Many of them are out of the city on business or else members of other courts entirely," He said gruffly. "Darius Leventhaal's son-"

"Negative," Nesta whispered, verifying that he had been located and tested.

"Neither Fenrick Valous nor Lawrence Reeves is it either." Cassian added stiffly. "So who's the mysterious fourth your shadows have brought forward?"

"Lucien Vanserra."

And at that Nesta spat her water onto Cassian's shoes, and the glass Cassian had been holding shattered in his hand.


	9. Chapter 9

9

Up until this point, Cassian had been nothing but supportive for Nesta. After all, his mother had been through a very similar situation. Who was he to judge? And yet this part of him seemed to disappear as he rounded on her.

"When where you going to tell me that you slept with Lucien?!" They were on their way back to the manor house now, and the wind whipped at the three of them.

"In case you haven't noticed, I wasn't exactly keeping records! So why don't you broadcast that to the entire street while you're at it!"

Cassian wasn't listening, he was holding his head. "Of all the males, why did it have to be that git, hey? I mean if anyone would do…."

"We don't _know_ that it's Lucien." Azriel added helpfully. "He just appears to be the most likely candidate at present. We may call him back here and test him to find that it isn't him at all."

"Very helpful," Cassian spat. "It doesn't unscrew him, but -"

Azriel didn't look back until the sound of scuffling stopped echoing. Nesta looked as livid as ever, and Cassian's head was tilted back, as he pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the bleeding.

"There isn't any reason to drag Lucien into this," Nesta sighed.

"You're joking," Azriel said at once.

"I'm not. You don't need this. Elain doesn't have a single feeling for Lucien. You can't make her hate the idea of him more than she already does. Isn't it enough that she moons over you?"

Nesta could have sworn that she saw the ghost of a blush sweep across the shadow singer's face.

"You told me to help you legitimize your child. I did that. It's better if everyone knows the truth, and if it stops Feyre's matchmaking…"

"She won't send me away," Nesta reminded him. "You'd be securing his spot in Velaris if you told...and that's only if we bothered to move out of the manor at all-"

"Fine," Azriel cut her off. "You've made your point. We won't tell the others, but you're going to tell Lucien. If you don't, I will."

Cassian caught up with the other two, now staring each other down at the gate to the manor.

Cassian brushed his bruised nose against his blood drenched sleeve.

"What are we doing then?"

They told him.

"Balls," Cassian said.


	10. Chapter 10

10

Azriel made good on his promise to Nesta. Lucien was summoned back to Velaris, and neither Feyre nor Rhys pressed on what luck she might be having at the local pubs since her searches to this point had been miserable at best.

Lucien arrived one dreary afternoon, and luckily for them all Feyre was out teaching her art class, and Rhysand was overseeing repairs to the library. With the exception of the servants and Elain, the manor provided a very welcome amount of privacy.

Azriel had silently seated the emissary in a corner of the library when he passed the test into his hands.

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Lucien asked.

"Seeing as how the high lady's sister is in the family way, and unmarried, you should realize I'm not." Azirel barked at him.

"Elain won't sit in the same room as me. Whatever trouble she's in, I can assure you I'm no-"

Nesta stepped forward, arms crossed. "It isn't Elain. Just take the test. And be quick about it."

Lucien gulped. "Are you sure? When did you think…. Why didn't you say something?"

"This is the lot of us, saying something." Cassian snapped.

Lucien's eyes were locked upon the general's mate however. He hadn't given her a second thought. Elain's disapproval weighed on him. He had accepted what release there was to be had in her sister, that was true. It was the mistake of a moment. Neither planned on revisiting it again.

Cassian's stomach turned over. Why wouldn't Lucien deny it? The man had a mate, as removed as she might be from his affections. He needn't claim the other sister.

Lucian stuck the strip between his lips and sucked, his heart racing at the very idea.

Nesta tapped her foot, though it did nothing for the tension within the room nor within herself.

When the paper fell from his lips, it was a startling color.

Everyone in the room took a collective breath. Including Elain, who now stood at the door.


	11. Chapter 11

11

Cassian's mind felt as if someone were inside of it, carving around with an ice pick. There wasn't a part of this that he had come to terms with. He knew Nesta had been sent away for her own good, he never would have suspected that things had gotten this bad to begin with.

At Lucien's response he felt as though he had no other choice but to combust or bust something else. All eyes were on Elain as she fled, and when no one bothered to say anything, Cassian fled down the hall after her.

Better for him not to be in that library. Better that he never grace the threshold of that place again. Elain lost him in a winding staircase of the manor, but was easy enough to track. In the end she had let herself out into the back garden, and when Cassian slipped out the back door after her, she was sitting nearly frozen on the edge of a great stone fountain, her fingers drifting in the water and tempting the cold.

"If you wanted him to yourself, you could have _acknowledged_ the mating bond." Always Cassian. Always tactless.

"I don't care what he does." Classic Elain. Her heart was a secret garden, and the walls were very high.

"Here," He offered. A pair of gloves lay draped over a pot by the back door. Lucien's solstice gift to Elain. He picked them up gently and brought them to where she sat. "These will protect your hands, you know."

"I prefer scarred hands," Elain said matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I bet you do," Cassian barked a laugh. "Are we talking about the shadow singer, then? You won't find him sporting with your sister. Morrigan would kill him first."

"This is why I left the library. Another minute and they'd pin Nesta's baby on me."

"I don't think that's how it works, Elain. Do we need to have the talk? Ask me anything. I'll tell you what I know." His grin was insufferable.

"Not like that!" Elain was flustered now, her face quite red. "I just mean….whenever Lucien does anything….They always make it a point to tell me that it's my fault for accepting him or not accepting him or sneezing when says hello. He's not my responsibility. He's grown, isn't he?"

Cassian paled in sudden understanding. "They mean well, Elain. Feyre and Rhys are so happy, they want everyone to have what they have. And Lucien is your mate. There's no getting around that. He tries to impress you, it's not his fault he's an absolute imbecile."

Elain giggled. "I think that's the first time you've made any sense. How do you feel about him now? Nesta is your mate isn't she?"

Cassian took a seat next to Elain, grunting slightly as he did so, the weight of the day sagging on his shoulders.

"I'd like to put him to bed. Under a rock."

Elain giggled again.

"I went the other way with all of this. I tried to make her my responsibility," Cassian said.

Elain cringed.

"I knew she was hurting. I just thought...that the mating bond would fix it. I hoped maybe she'd just….see me. I didn't understand how she could have come out of this hurt so bad. You - you lost everything she did and then some. You didn't...you didn't sleep with people in the village?"

"Nope!" Elain chirped, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I thought not."

"I heard what you said to her. Declared to her during the war. I don't know how she went from that to…"

Cassian sighed. "Shit happens." He pulled off his coat, and draped the heavy wool around Elain's slight shoulders.

"Doesn't make it easy," She said, and he agreed. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know," Cassian kicked at some of the stones surrounding the fountain. "You don't drink do you?"

Elain shook her head.

Cassian draped an arm around her neck. "Let's head back inside, and tattle on the lot of them."


	12. Chapter 12

12

Nesta merely nodded as Feyre showed her the features of the crib. Lucien copying her work on the latches to collapse the sides and build them back up again.

Cassian was leaning in the doorway. Though the other man made no sound he turned to Rhys. "If I had known you would let the two of them scrap your nursery for parts, I wouldn't have told you."

Rhys shrugged almost imperceptibly. "We're not yet expecting. Feyre wants them to have it."

"Is Lucien staying here, then?"

"He has decided not to," Rhys said.

Cassian made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a growl.

"You wouldn't have been happy if he had," Rhys added.

"I thought he would try and do the right thing," Cassian gasped.

"Nesta has refused him any marriage. And they're not mates. His interest is still tied to Elain. If given the choice he would prefer that she accept the bond and for Elain to assume the role as mother. At least that's what he has said."

"That little bit-" Cassian began.

"Nesta prefers her freedom, Cassain. This is Lucien's preference having heard Nesta's side of things."

"Well, he can't have the three of them," Cassian snarled.

"This complicates your relationship with Nesta, brother. I wouldn't sway your decision there, but you're better off setting aside your feelings for the baby, whatever they may be, and especially and most importantly, whatever tenderness has grown toward Elain."

"Horse shit," Cassian barked.

"They are Lucien's offspring and mate respectively. Stay away from them both."

"I haven't warmed to Elain!" Cassian's voice had rose but they had long since meandered further down the hall and out of earshot.

"The two of you practically beat down my door to give me the news of Lucien. And I know she waited outside for you, even after I sent her back to her room."

"Nothing happened," Cassian said

"And nothing is going to happen," Rhys replied.

"I told Nesta I would stay, to whatever end. Finding the father. Not finding the father. Being the father. She wants nothing from me. And apparently nothing from Lucien. He caused this whole mess and now he wants to mate Elain like nothing happened and leave her in charge of a baby."

"We've seen weirder, in our time."

"The reason Elain doesn't want him, is because she's a Seer. She can see through his bullshit…"

Rhys rubbed his temples. "Do. Not. Bed. Nesta's. Sister."

"...she too sweet to be with such a pig headed…"

"Do. Not." Rhys repeated.

Azriel approached from the other end of the hall. "Elain's locked herself in her. She's been there all afternoon. Crying."

"I'll see to her," Cassian informed them.

Azriel's confusion matched the obvious pain on his face. "What?"

Rhysand turned on his heel.

"Where are you going?" Cassian asked.

"I need to build another house. Very. Very far away from this one."


End file.
